Hwang Sok-Yong - The Guest

Commander, are they saying that he acted dishonorably, as well?

I wouldn’t really say dishonorable. she’s a good looking one, a woman teacher, so I guess they probably fell for each other.

A female teacher?

Ah, what did they say her name was. I went down South in ’48, so I don’t know any of these new people.

For the first time, Sangho spoke.

You know her, too. Remember that teacher? Ms. Yun?

Oh, oh yeah, she used to board with the family who ran that store.

I see you comrades know her well. What’s this bitch about, eh?

I’d only ever seen Ms. Yun from a distance, but you could definitely say that she had piqued my interest. Her hair was just long enough to put up in a ponytail and twist around to fall over one shoulder. She would wear a white chŏgori and a black velvet mongdang ch’ima that just covered her knees — very neat and gentle looking. I used to stop and gaze after her for quite a while whenever she happened to pass me on the street, inhaling her city fragrance. She must have used apricot-scented face cream; whenever she walked by I felt as if I were standing in the midst of an orchard.

I know her well enough — we lived in the same village. I believe she’s from Haeju. From what I’ve heard, she’s quite a decent girl—

Pongsu cut in.

According to the report I received, she made a speech at a People’s Rally. Is that correct?

Oh, yeah, that’s right. I remember she read something in the school playground, telling people to volunteer and join the army.

Well, now that everybody knows about it, we can’t just let her go.

What’s going to happen to the commander of the northeastern district? We will have to reinvestigate his dedication to our ideology.

My memory fails me, but I’m pretty sure we never ended up killing him. After all, he was on our side. The commander was, however, under “ideological investigation” for some time, which means he was probably beaten to within an inch of his life by the boys who used to be under his command — it’s likely he ended up a cripple. I do know that the man was dismissed from all official posts. Who knows, maybe he took refuge in the South, going down with the mass retreat. Ms. Yun, on the other hand, was locked up in the storage room of the police station. Later she was transferred to a hot-spring resort run by the government. That was where I eventually helped her to rest for all eternity. It was better for her that way.

Anyway, after hearing the news I went back home for the night. Yosŏp was nowhere to be found, and no one knew where he might have gone. He did, however, show up again around supper time, so our entire family — my parents, my own family, and Yosŏp — we all got a chance to sit down together for a change and enjoy a meal. I decided to leave Yosŏp alone for the time being. After supper, Father and I talked for a while about what was going on with the war, especially on the front lines. Pretty soon after that I retired to our wing. The sun had set but it wasn’t completely dark yet. Just having finished my business in the outhouse next to the fence, I was getting to my feet when I spotted someone walking across the cabbage fields. He was treading recklessly over the furrows, ignoring the tall, densely planted cabbages. He could have walked along the levee path, instead! I guess that’s just how your mind works when you’re a country boy at heart. I yelled at the top of my lungs, Hey you! What do you think you’re doing?

The figure turned towards me, his voice dying away before it had even begun. It was Yosŏp. I walked out past the fence, shouting for him to come over to me. As I got closer, Yosŏp hurriedly hid something behind his back. Peering over his shoulder, I could see that it was some sort of bundle.

Turn around. Let me see. What have you got there?

I snatched up the bundle and opened it. Out came a gourd containing some cooked rice and a little china bowl filled with pickled radish and bean paste.

What is going on here?

I just brought it out to eat with my friends while we play.

All of a sudden, I remembered all the things my parents had told me earlier, about how Yosŏp had been inhaling bowls of rice and running around the village after dark. Thinking of what had happened at the office that day, a horrifying possibility dawned on me.

You little brat — tell me the truth! Where are you taking the food?

Grabbing him by the collar, I shook him back and forth, demanding that he speak. With a surprising amount of sincerity, Little Brother started rubbing his hands together, pleading his case.

Big Brother. this is a secret, just between us, okay? Promise you won’t tell.

A secret? You little idiot! Do you have some sort of death wish? You want them to storm in here and kill our entire family? Who have you been hiding?

Girls. from the People’s Army.

Girls? How many?

Two. They don’t even have any guns.

Where are you hiding them?

Hanging his head, Little Brother wouldn’t open his mouth. I knew very well that bullying him wouldn’t do any good at that point. I changed my tone of voice and asked him again, gently this time.

Where are they? I won’t hurt them, I promise.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve — he must have been crying with his head bowed down. Getting impatient, I went on, imploring, You’re so dense! Don’t you see? If the neighbors find out, they’ll suspect us! How can I help the girls if I don’t know where they are?

I could tell he was right on the verge of bursting into tears as he finally blurted, I hid them in a dugout in the orchard, the one right over the hill.

I pushed him lightly on the back.

Well, go on then.

Wha-at?

How can they eat if you don’t take them the food?

Big Brother, you mean, really.?

And with that, I sent him on his way. I didn’t go back to the county hall that evening. Much later that night, I went into the main wing of the house and saw that all the lights were turned off — obviously, everyone was asleep. I went to the stepping stone beneath the wooden floor and checked to make sure Yosŏp’s sneakers were there nestled between the grown-ups’ komusin. They were. He was back. Sticking a U.S. Army issue flashlight into my cartridge belt, I checked the magazine of my revolver to make sure it had enough bullets, opened up the chamber to check that, and set the safety. I was about to leave the house when I changed my mind and turned around. I went into the storeroom next to the house and went through the various tools instead — sickles, hoes, shovels, and so on. I grabbed a pick.

The little trail in the orchard was our playground when we were children. As we grew older, we would walk along it with the workmen, going out to help pick the apples. I knew every nook and cranny of that place. I approached the mud cellar without making a sound. Just as a precaution, I put down the pick, took the revolver in my hands, and released the safety pin. Holding the flashlight in one hand, I switched it on and shone it into the cellar. Startled by the sudden light, the two people who had been sleeping inside sat bolt upright, covering their faces with their hands. Aiming the gun at them, I spoke.

Hands up. Come on out.

Rustling around, they got up and climbed out of the hut. They were children, no older than high school age. I’d dealt with countless stragglers in town, just like these, so I didn’t even bother asking for their ranks. I asked them the only thing that was important.

Anybody else besides you two?

No. Just us.

Where’s your platoon?

We were separated a fortnight ago.

The smaller one had answered my questions, but the big one suddenly spoke up.

Are you a soldier of the National Defense Army?